Mr Perfect
by Deidara Crack Remix
Summary: AU It's one thing to be worried about the so-called "friends" hanging around your little brother, but to have one of your little brother's "friends" coming onto you. It makes life just... a little awkward when your a teacher. USxRus, PruCan, FrUK


Mr. Perfect

Chapter 1

"So why do we even celebrate Thanksgiving? Isn't it kind of an insult to our ancestors or whatever?"

"Because, even though Columbus' strategies weren't so totally awesome, it was the beginning of what we know as America."

"But they concurred and raped the natives…"

"Little dude, it doesn't change the fact that we celebrate it; even if people wanted to make that argument."

The bell rung and the class of students erupted into sudden chatter.

"Thanks teach!"

"See you tomorrow."

"Bye Mr. Jones."

Alfred sighed, scratching the back of his honey colored head before flopping back and collapsing into the leather rolling chair behind the large metal desk. Seventh period was finally over.

Finally…

He swerved in his chair to face the computer and began clicking out of the last of the day's lesson before clicking onto the teacher's website.

_Ivan Braginsky_, he was told earlier today that a transfer student would be coming to his second period, but the boy never showed up. He sighed. Maybe the kid got scared, or decided he'd just not come.

Clicking out of the last page on his screen he logged off and held the power button to shut it off.

"Well your classes are certainly lively," a familiar British accent rung from the entrance to the classroom. Alfred turned, grinning over at the English teacher while gathering all the skewed assignments thrown on his desk together in (what he considered to be) a neat pile. "We could hear them all throughout our reading. Don't you have any silent methods of teaching?"

"Dude, that's because your classes are so freaking boring," Alfred pointed out, only glancing up for a second to see the slightly baffled look on the Englishmen's face. Though, he didn't really expect Alfred to be too keen when it came to English seeing as most of the younger male's vocabulary revolved around "Dude" and "totally". Freakin' American.

"My classes are not boring! You just treat your classes as if it were a playground. Really Alfred, you have no tact when it comes to being a _real _teacher," Arthur shrugged with a cocky smile.

"Don't make me laugh! Dude, have you heard yourself talk?"

"I don't know _dude_, it seems you have a hard time hearing your own self. Please Alfred, talk to me once you've got the mindset of a twenty five year old man, not the nitwit five year old you portray yourself as."

"What is that supposed to mean, brows?"

"It means you're as intelligent as the scones I ate for lunch."

"O hon hon, what are you two arguing about?" a smooth voice easily broke into the heated conversation and Arthur nearly screamed when he felt an arm slip around his waist. The key word being 'nearly'.

"Damn you, you bloody frog! What, are you trying to give me a heart attack!" the Frenchmen frowned, but nonetheless attempted to place a chaste kiss on the shorter blond male's luscious lips but instead only slightly catching the English teacher's jaw.

"You don't have to be so cruel mon chéri." Arthur glared up at him for a moment, before roughly wiggly out of the French teacher's arms before shoving away from the older male.

"I'm leaving, by Alfred," he nearly snarled out, pointedly ignoring the Frenchmen before quickly brushing past the taller teacher out of the classroom.

"Jeez Francis, you could be a little less creepy bro," Alfred commented, shoving the last of his papers inside of his briefcase. Francis sighed, pushing his wavy hair out of his face and behind his ear as he used his other hand to readjust the strap of his bag around his shoulder.

"He is only playing hard to get. Honestly, he was overreacting," he grumbled, not comprehending why the English teacher wasn't begging to be instantly pleasured just by looking into his gorgeous blue eyes.

Because honestly, who wouldn't right?

Yeah…

"Dude…" Alfred started, but decided that whatever he would say probably wouldn't get through to his lovesick coworker and that he didn't care enough to try. "Wanna grab a bite to eat, I'm freakin' starving?" he said, changing the subject as he grabbed his briefcase and jogged up to the French teacher.

"Oui, as long as you keep your greasy 'amburgers to yourself mon ami," Francis nodded as he turned off the light. Alfred frowned, spinning to close the door behind them.

"Are you serious? Man!"

* * *

><p>"I'm home!" Matthew cringed as his ears were brutally assaulted by his brother's overly boisterous voice.<p>

"Hey Al," he spoke, his voice barely being heard over his brother's loud rummaging.

"Matt! I got you some food," Alfred grinned, jumping over the back of the couch onto the soft cushion beside the younger sibling, kicking his feet up onto the table. Matthew sighed, still not understanding how the man beside him could possibly be twenty five and still act like a fourteen year old.

"I thought (hoped) you'd be home much later," he commented when a greasy brown bag was tossed onto his lap. He scrunched up his nose in distaste, "Oh Al, this is really gross."

"Yeah, the French dude didn't want to go to Burger King, but being the super awesome hero brother that I am, I decided to stop by for you," he shrugged at his own comment and Matthew could only stare in awe at his brother's obliviousness. He shook his head, placing the bag of grease onto the table.

"Um, thanks, but I'm not really hungry," he said, but Alfred didn't seem to hear as his focused was now totally consumed by the television. "I…Some of my friends are going to be coming over, if that's okay."

"Mm."

The seventeen year old gave up, pushing himself off the couch and heading to the kitchen, making sure to grab the brown bag on the way so that he could quickly dispose of it.

Alfred turned his head and watched his brother go, before shrugging and flipping the channel.

There was a loud clank, followed by what could only be numerous pots and pans falling out of the cabinets and onto the hard wooden floor of their kitchen, along with a silent curse from the younger of the two blonds. His ear twitched at the noise and he poked his head over the back of the cough.

"Matt! Are you making dinner?" though admittedly the more admirable question would be 'Matt! Are you okay?'

Oh, what the hell.

"Not for you!" he called back and Alfred jumped up in his seat. Food? But not for him? That is just not cool.

"Then what are you doing?" he asked, slightly confused as he found his brother standing in the middle of the kitchen, a spatula and some other cooking utensil he had no idea what it could be used for resting in his other hand. Hell, he'd never step foot in the kitchen if it wasn't for being feed by his darling younger brother; let alone bother with odd shaped cooking supplies that a simple fork or spoon would suffice for.

A small smile tugged at his lips as he watched the teen shift through cabinets, setting up ingredients, a pink and blue apron shielding him from any powder residue that may cling to his clothing. He was just so cute.

"Dude! What are you about to make? Can I try it? It looks like it's gonna be totally awesome Mattie," the older (or younger) sibling pleaded, reaching towards one of the bowls already mixed with powder and some other substance. He sniffed it experimentally before the bowl was roughly ripped from his hands. He frowned.

"Stop Al, I'm actually working on something for school," he scolded, wondering for a moment which one of them was the guardian.

"What kind of project?" he asked, his lips forming into a slight pout as he inspected the rest of the ingredients reframing form touching any of them.

"Home economics," he answered but wasn't able to go into any more detail as the doorbell interrupted his next statement. Alfred was the first to step out of the kitchen and brushed any nonexistent dirt off of his hands onto the back of his pants as he made his way to the door.

"Hey teach! It's your most awesome student here to grace your presence!" he grit his teeth at the voice that immediately assaulted him as he opened the door.

Gilbert…

He really hated that kid.

And when he said "Really hated" he meant; if he had the choice, he would push the kid off the tallest building, far, far away from his vulnerable little brother.

It wasn't that he was overly protective, no. Overprotective was such a strong, defining word. He just didn't like his brother hanging out with the wrong influences. He was very frail, even if he would never admit it, it was blatantly obvious with the way the younger boy spoke to everyone with such uncertainty and only really associated with a small group of people.

Of course, those small groups of people were always the ones who were only out to hurt his brother and he was going to have none of that. He was Matthew's hero and if anyone were to dare try and hurt him, he would pull a super awesome, kickass, savior move and…

"Teach, Mr. Jones, man are you gonna let us in, it's freakin' cold out here?" the short, bright haired boy asked and Alfred snapped out of his delusions and forced a painfully fake smile on before stepping aside cordially.

He was so focused on mentally chanting voodoo curses on the boy he hadn't even realized there was another boy in tow. It was surprising that he hadn't seen him; he had to be at least 6 feet even, he had hair that resembled melting snow, his eyes were so blue they almost seemed violet and he was dressed in a heavy gray coat, matching thick gloves and a long creamy scarf that seemed a bit out of place. When he'd turned to close the door, he'd nearly had his face stuff itself in the boy's soft coat. His nose brushed against the fabric as he looked up into the vibrant, yet slightly dull eyes. He took a hasty step back and scratched the back of his head awkwardly.

"Oh Alfred, that's Ivan. He just transferred into our school today." He heard that name somewhere before.

Ivan

Ivan…

_Ivan…Bra-gin-sky_

Maybe…

Wasn't that the name of the transfer student in his second period?

"Um, why is he here?" he asked, not really caring if the question was slightly rude as he turned to his brother whom was now in the kitchen with the little spawn of Satan setting up the last of whatever food project he'd been going on about before the two intruders arrived.

"He was assigned to our group. He's completely behind, and being completely awesome and whatnot, we decided to invite him over and catch him up on everything he missed and stuff since he lives like, three houses down," Gilbert answered and Albert stopped himself at barking at the boy for answering for his brother, but the younger didn't seem to mind, so he let it go.

Little bastard.

He turned back to the taller teen and was surprised, once again, to see him still standing there staring at him as if he didn't mind being talked about as if he wasn't right there. Albert quirked an eyebrow at the boy before stretching out his hand.

"I'm Alfred Jones or Mr. Jones. You're Ivan Braginsky?" he finally introduced and Ivan's lipped quirked in a small smile.

"Da, it is much to my pleasure to be meeting you Alfred," well that wasn't exactly what he'd expected. He coughed lamely, playing off his surprise by how thick the boy's accent was.

"Alright Big Guy, we're all set up in the kitchen, so get in here!" Gilbert called.

Ivan rolled his eyes at the comment before brushing past Alfred whispering "I wish to see you again soon, Alfred." The elder male felt his blood run cold, his cheeks being the only place where blood seemed to flow.

The hell…

"It's Mr. Jones!"


End file.
